Living in the Remnants
by thedoctorandriver
Summary: AU - The Doctor was banished to Earth before the Time War to serve his sentence, but unfortunately for him the punishment still holds even when he is the last of his kind and those who inflicted it are gone. Stuck for another 200 years, a desperate Doctor with no access to his TARDIS meets Rose in a quite different setting. Badboy!Doctor.
1. Prologue

_A/N This is an AU, dealing with a different Doctor, and therefore a slightly different Rose.  
The prologue is told through an OC, but rest assured this OC won't be making a reappearance, the story will revolve almost singularly around the Doctor and Rose.  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

_Disclaimer:_ We do not, in any shape or form, own Doctor Who. This counts for any following additions to this story, which we _do_ own.

* * *

_Prologue_:

Downtown New York, 1662.

She sits alone at the bar, nursing a whiskey and definitely not thinking about _him_. This place is sketchier than she's used to, but she really doesn't feel up to facing one of the nicer ones in the town where she normally goes – _went_, she shakes herself mentally – with him and _dammit_, she really needs to get her mind somewhere else.

"Another one, please," she says in the vague direction of the bartender, pointedly ignoring his leer as he replies "Sure thing, sweetheart". He looks like he could be old enough to be her father, and then some.

Then, as though he appeared out of nowhere, there's a man sitting on the stool next to hers. He's hunched over so she can't see his face, and she's almost certain he couldn't have been quiet enough for her not to notice him, not in the silent expanse of the deserted bar.

"The usual," she hears, mumbled from the broad expanse of leather-clad back turned towards her, sees the creepy bartender nod and turn to grab the vodka and gin at the same time. A serious drinker, then, she thinks, and on a Tuesday night as well. Then again, if he's desperate enough to be a regular in this sorry excuse for an establishment, she shouldn't really be so surprised. And then _screw it_, she thinks, because she seriously needs something to take her mind off – well - to take her mind off everything.

"Aren't you quite the mystery man," she begins, in a tone that suggests she's going to continue. And then, " – um." she finishes lamely, as the man turns around. She can't be blamed, she thinks, because when she got it into her head to start a conversation with this guy, she wasn't certainly wasn't expecting this. Slicked back hair, defined bones, a long throat, and – was that an ear piercing? He's good-looking – unfairly so, almost.

"Did you want something?" he asks, in a gravelly voice that suits him somehow, and when she looks up from her drinks, she can feel her face heating up under his intense gaze. In among the jumble of thoughts, she can't help but notice that his eyes appear to take up more than half of his face, huge and chocolate and saucer-like.

"I – um – I – " she stutters, but he's leaning into her space and murmuring into her ear.

"You have really pretty eyes, - " he says, trailing off with a question in his voice.

"L-Lucy, my name's Lucy." she supplies, and he flashes her a smile that she thinks is just unreasonable, and she feels her breath hitch as he whispers.

"They look like the sky and the sea mixed together, Lucy."

The line is so ridiculous and dreamy, it sounds like he learned it out of one of his mother's cheesy romance novels, but it's working – she hates to admit it, but it is. After all the recent trouble she's had with her boyfriend she really is considering the possibility of a one night stand – one night only, since the likes of _him_ didn't end up with the likes of _her_ – and despite his obvious efforts there was no meaning in his voice, no light in his eyes as he spoke to her. "Thank you," she stutters again, cursing herself for her inability to remain coherent in this man's presence. He seems to like the effect he's having on her, and Lucy feels certain that he gets this a lot.

"Shall we take this conversation elsewhere...?" he suggests, and Lucy is following him immediately, telling herself that this is exactly what she needs. He seems around the same age as her as well, 19 or 20, or at least he looks that way at first glance, and she'd rather take this chance while she has it rather than find herself stuck with an older man again.

They wind up in her shabby apartment and in the morning he is gone without a trace, and the bed next to her is still warm. She didn't expect anything else, really. And anyway, the assistant in the corner shop has been blushing at her for a while now and she thinks it is finally time to take him up on his offer.

Two years later, when she is happily married and has almost forgotten the events of that night – almost, but not quite, she sees him again. At first she tells herself that its stupid, as she only saw him in the half light of the bar and later her apartment, but she would recognise that face anywhere – it was the kind of face that went by unnoticed, unless you gave it a proper glance, and then you saw the distinctive cheekbones, the hooded eyes. He was slouching by one of the bins, lighting his cigarette. He doesn't put it to his lips though, merely looks at the way the smoke bleeds out of the end. Lucy has an unshakeable feeling he has seen her, even though his eyes never once drift in her direction. Cigarette falling to the floor, he is gone, not looking back. While he is turning though, Lucy catches a glimpse of his eyes. She could swear they were slightly red, the red that came from bottling tears up inside you long and hard, until they were so cramped they were fighting to get out.

It was all her intuition though. Perhaps he was perfectly fine, and she was just inferring things as usual. Thinking back, Lucy couldn't even be sure that it was him. Either way, it wasn't her business to worry about a near stranger she'd seen on the street corner. She just hoped that whatever was troubling him would soon come to an end.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that wouldn't happen for a long, long time.

* * *

_A/N Hopefully regular updates. Please let us know what you think, all comments appreciated._


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N Here is the first chapter – written in 3__rd__ person, but following Rose. This will alternate, but not repeating the same scenes just from different viewpoints, as we find this pointless.  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

* * *

_Chapter 1:_

"And you be careful, Rose, take care of yourself. You are worth so much, don't you dare forget that! And have fun – god knows you deserve it!" Jackie was still standing in the doorway, the tears in her eyes destroying the makeup around them. She had wanted to accompany Rose to the campus, but Rose had felt like this was something she needed to do alone, much to Jackie's dismay, although a part of her felt proud of her little girl growing up. She just wished it wasn't so soon...

"Bye, Mum!" Rose called back over her shoulder, slightly exasperated. Finally, after about half an hour of goodbye hugs, she was going to university. A year later than Mickey, Shareen, and the rest of her friends, but still - all the hard work was now at last worth something. She knew Merryweather wasn't the best college in the country, or anywhere near, but it was the one she had been hoping for. She readjusted her backpack, and her grip on the suitcase handle - she was going to be boarding on-campus since it was quite a while away – outside London.

She clambered into the waiting taxi and watched the Powell Estate fade into dozens of other houses, which finally gave way to the dark grey of the motorway.  
This was it.

The second she left the cab, she found herself being smothered by a mass of familiar blue jumper.

"Hey, Rose!" Mickey shouted loudly, despite the fact that he was right next to her.

"Hi, Mickey," she said back, smiling. Her on off boyfriend could be annoying sometimes, but she did like being around him, and after all, without Mickey she would never have redone her A levels successfully. After all that business with Jimmy Stone, she had been a year behind the rest of her class, and she was going to work in the local department store, but when it exploded, quite mysteriously, Mickey convinced her to go back to school. She was glad, if she had worked at Henrik's, she wouldn't be here today.

"I'll show you around - come on, we haven't got that much time - lessons start tomorrow and it's already-" Mickey checked his watch "6 o'clock,"

Rose grinned, and picked up her suitcase again, following Mickey around as he pointed out various buildings to her which she was sure she would not remember - the whole campus seemed so big! Rose knew she would get lost within a few minutes if she was left alone.

"And here is your room - you're rooming with Shareen - she nagged and nagged until you were allowed to be put in her room. The excuses she pulled, some of them were complete and utter lies!" Mickey said, laughing.

Rose opened the door, and found half of the room to be typically covered in posters full of boys, Shareen style. Her half had blank white walls, a small cupboard and a comfortable looking bed in the corner. "I like it," she said. It was true - even half of this room was bigger and tidier than her room in the flat at home.

"That's good," Mickey said, "because even if you didn't you'd have no other choice,"

Rose ignored him; Mickey's sense of humour wasn't always the best.

Once she'd finished unpacking, Shareen bounced in, demanding to know everything that had happened while they were apart. Nothing, Rose had replied truthfully. She knew it was just a semi-subtle intro for her to ask Shareen the same question. No surprises, Shareen had lots to tell her. She had recently begun a relationship with Darren, a guy from her biology class. According to Shareen, he was "hot, hot, hot". Rose congratulated her, but inwardly felt distant – after everything with Jimmy Stone she had decided to stay away from boyfriends for a while, a rule which even Mickey wasn't exempt to.

* * *

Rose quickly and easily settled into a routine of sleeping, eating, classes, making friends, and then the same thing all over again. She called Jackie every two or three days so that the latter wouldn't think anything serious had happened, as she was sometimes prone to overreactions. By the end of the first week she already felt at home in the sprawling university, which made both Mickey and Shareen happy.

Everything was so perfect she knew there had to be a catch, and this came in the form of John Smith. This name was overly mentioned, always followed by either glares or blushes, but at first Rose had ignored it, assuming that such a common name was bound to be talked of a lot. But such a frequent name often reverses upon itself – in actual fact it wasn't very common at all as most people with surnames Smith would rather pick a different name for their children. Instead of asking about this mysterious person outright, though, Rose decided to investigate further to prove her theory. She had asked both Mickey and Shareen how many people at Merryweather were called John Smith, knowing it was an odd question but deciding to just go with it. They had both looked slightly worried and clammed up. Mickey had said "No one anymore," so she assumed this was some past student. However, as time carried on, she found herself growing more and more curious. Who was this John Smith who seemed to be the talk of the school, even when he was not even attending anymore? She was quite certain he was not some celebrity, as she definitely hadn't heard of him. As for a son of a super billionaire or something along those lines – why would such a person go to Merryweather? And it definitely wasn't your typical wealthy name. No, that can't be it, Rose concluded. But then what? How could a normal person influence all the students here so much?

By this point her curiosity was mounting so much that she couldn't take it anymore. She decided to ask the next person she heard mention his name, regardless of how shy she felt in front of all the people she thought were judging her because of her being a year behind, something which had happened often in her last school. She shuddered. She didn't particularly want to think of the past.

The opportunity presented itself soon enough, in her English lesson. Barely five minutes into class, the name had, as she expected it to, cropped up again. Lara Duncan, the girl next to her, and Leila Evans were passing each other notes under the table. Rose had glanced over, and seen the messages:

_Have you heard?_

_Heard what?_

_John Smith is coming back!_

_Already? I thought he was expelled for good this time. _

_I know, they just can't seem to get rid of him, can they?_

This was when Rose stepped in. "Hey Lara, who exactly is John Smith?" she asked, feeling slightly awkward at intruding into their conversation.

Lara looked at her, shock evident on her face. "You don't know? Oh I forgot, you're in the year under me! Well-" Lara leaned in, beckoning Rose closer. She looked obviously pleased at this opportunity to gossip. "He's your typical bad boy. Leather jacket, cigarettes, the lot. He never really speaks to anyone apart from Donna Noble," obvious jealousy clouded Lara's voice. "Which really sucks because anyone can see they're not an item – she's basically his sister - meaning he's free. Which brings me to the most important aspect of John Smith." she fanned her face with her hand. "He is fit! Absolutely gorgeous! You can't have everything though - he has never been with someone for longer than a few days, and that was a record." Lara's face turned sour, and Rose wondered if anything had ever happened between him and her. "He's scary though - he's got this expression… Once I walked past him when he was bunking a lesson - he does that a lot - and he spat on the floor, right in front of me; he could have stained my new boots!" Lara looked outraged at the mere memory. "So I told him what I was thinking of him at that moment, and he just looked at me, really slowly and menacingly. It was really creepy, let me tell you - the look in his eyes, it was murderous. Although he looks like that all the time so I couldn't tell if it was because of me or just whatever he was thinking of,"

"Anyways, last thing we heard, he got expelled for having this huge argument with the head because of the drug stash that was discovered in his locker. It got really nasty, and really loud, and apparently he went all violent!" Leila butted in excitedly, her voice rising above the volume of the rest of the class and catching Mrs Owen's attention.

"That's enough, Leila, Lara - don't go around spreading rumours like that to new students!" Mrs Owen shouted angrily. "It's not fair to judge people when you don't know anything about them!"

"She's always had a soft side for Smith," Lara whispered in Rose's ear. "She's the only one though - the other teachers don't tolerate him in their classes at all. It's a miracle if he makes it 10 minutes into a lesson without being sent out."

This was as far as Lara could get as she was being sent a vicious glare from Mrs. Owen. The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence, although she could tell that both Lara and Leila's minds were once again on the infamous John Smith. So, she supposed, could Mrs. Owen, as the teacher seemed to give them an extra load of homework that day.

* * *

This satisfied Rose's curiosity for the time being. It was typical for people to make huge deals about people who were obvious pompous arseholes. In other words, she wasn't impressed by this so called John Smith at all. Thinking about it, she severely doubted that was his real name at all. He probably had a really embarrassing name like Brussel Sprout or something. She allowed a small smile to spread across her lips at the thought.

Anyway, she wouldn't let herself become as obsessed as nearly all the others seemed to be. It was now the weekend and she had to go out and do some shopping. Her and Shareen were planning to make some cookies for Mickey's birthday, which was on the coming Sunday.

"You coming, Shar?" she asked in Shareen's general direction, who was busy swooning over a picture of Darren that she had taken a few days ago. Several more printouts of this were pinnned up around her bed. Rose grinned inside. Shareen had it bad.

"What?" Shareen asked, putting down her phone and looking around the room.

"To get the biscuit ingredients!" Rose said, rolling her eyes at her friend's dreamy state. Shareen wouldn't admit it yet, but Rose was completely certain she was in love with him.

"Oh yeah, sure," Shareen perked up and started packing her bag.

In that moment there was a polite rap on their bedroom door. "You open it, Rose," Shareen said.

Rose opened the door, and saw a boyish figure standing there that could only be Darren – Shareen had shown her enough pictures for her to recognise him anywhere.

"I'm here for the beautiful girl in the corner," Darren said, grinning.

Shareen heard his voice and ran over, squealing as she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Hi Darren," she said, grinning. "This is Rose, my best friend and roommate. My single roommate," she gave Rose a disapproving look, "meaning that you are welcome to bring the best of your friends along anytime,"

Darren laughed easily. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "But that's not what I was here for. Shareen, would you do me the honour of accompanying me to lunch?" he bowed formally.

Shareen looked at Rose, her face torn. "You go ahead," Rose said good-naturedly. "I'll get the ingredients and then we'll bake the biscuits a bit later,"

"Thanks Rosie!" Shareen called over her shoulder, already being pulled out of the room by Darren.

Rose chuckled to herself. The easy relationship between Shareen and Darren was one she hoped to have for herself one day. One day, she reminded herself, thinking back to Jimmy. A good break from men was what she both needed and wanted right now. She slung a bag over her shoulder, checking for her purse, and went to the bus stop outside Merryweather's main entrance. The local bus ran every ten minutes, connecting the university to the nearby town. She had never been, as she got her food from the canteen, but she was sure there would be a supermarket somewhere.

Just as she had thought, Rose was greeted by the sight of a large Waitrose sign, and headed over. She grabbed the butter, sugar, eggs and flour, throwing a few packets of chocolate chips on top for good measure. Hurrying to pay and get back home, she didn't realise she wasn't completely looking where she was going until she bumped into a solid figure.

"Sorry," she said, moving to the side. The bus was already pulling into the bus stop and she would prefer to catch this one than having to wait, even if 1o minutes weren't particularly long.

"You've missed it," a voice somewhere next to her said, and she was confused for a few seconds before she saw the bus driving past her.

"I know," she said, aware that this was coming out rather snarkily. She turned to face the voice and her breath momentarily hitched, although she did a good job of hiding it, because the owner of the voice did not look like she was expecting him to. He was fairly tall, wearing a bright pink T-shirt saying "Cuddle me like a Panda" in bright red letters, and some nondescript blue jeans. His hair was falling floppily in his eyes, which were his most stunning feature – a dark brown that could have been chocolate, but somehow looked harsher. Rose looked at the T-shirt again and couldn't help giggling. It really didn't fit in with the rest of him.

He followed her gaze, seeing what she was laughing at. "Present," he said curtly, his body still as tense as when she had bumped into him. What was with this guy?

She was slightly taken aback at his tone, but managed to smile anyway – It wouldn't do to be rude, her mother always said, although her opinion changed very quickly and this apparently didn't apply for her herself, only other people. "I like it," she said.

He didn't answer, just looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Maybe it will be worth coming back after all," he murmured.

Rose looked at him quizzically, but he was already walking away. As he bent down to tie his shoelace, the back of his trouser leg slipped up a little, revealing a bulky ankle monitor. An ankle monitor? Then the pieces all fell into place and she cursed herself for not realising earlier. Around 20, living in the town of Merryweather and wearing an ankle monitor for what may or may not have been a drug related crime. This must be him. The one and only pompous arsehole of Merryweather. "John Smith," she caught herself saying under her breath.

The latter turned around abruptly, as if he had heard her, but that was impossible. He looked at her again and the corners of his lips quirked up as he winked suggestively. His eyes, however, stayed cold. Then he turned back around and started jogging off into the other direction. Rose looked away. Apart from his looks, this boy was the exact mirror of Jimmy Stone. Confident, arrogant, and a complete player. She wasn't going to get involved with him, that was for sure. He may have good looks, but Rose could definitely abstain if the package included a personality like that. She shuddered, and hurried to the bus stop, shopping in hand.

If he was really returning to uni, this was going to be a very interesting term, she found herself thinking. Not that she was going to break her rule of no involvement, no, but some good gossip was always a fun way to brighten up the months she was going to spend learning. _Oh yes_, she thought, _this will definitely be an interesting term._

* * *

_A/N Very interested to hear everything you think, please drop a review down there.  
The next chapter shall be posted as soon as possible, with updates probably every 2-3 days. The badboy! genre, as far as we know, isn't very common ranging to nonexistent in the Doctor Who fandom, so we thought we'd try our hand at introducing it. You never know until you try!_


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you for the response to this story, to all the people who reviewed, favourited and alerted. Please continue to do so!  
Bonus Points for anyone who can spot the "The Decoy Bride" quote/phrase which I stole!  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

* * *

_Chapter 2:_

"Rose?" Mickey called out, looking into the empty common room with a puzzled expression on his face. He had just heard her voice telling him to come in, but now it looked like there was no one there. "Rose?"

Rose nudged Shareen and they both nodded. Waiting until Mickey had his back turned, they jumped up from behind the sofa, shouting, "Surprise!"

Mickey whirled around, letting out a girlish scream and then blushing in embarrassment. "Guys…"

"No protesting, Mickey Mouse!" Shareen interrupted. "It's your birthday, and we've made you some biscuits."

Rose lifted up the tray and thrust it into Mickey's hands. "Happy Birthday," she said, smiling.

For the rest of that evening they hung around in the common room, eating the biscuits which, despite the many failed attempts that had happened during the making, were very nice. Rose finally felt as though she had settled in properly with her friends, although she did slightly dread going back to lessons tomorrow – it wasn't that the people in her year weren't nice, but Mickey and Shareen weren't there, and she always felt a little awkward knowing she was a year older than the rest of the people in her class. Not for the first time, she cursed Jimmy Stone and how foolish she had been then. She would give anything to go back and do it right, but she knew that wasn't possible. She just had to do the best she could with what she had, which meant studying hard and making Jackie proud. Jackie had always said she was destined for greater things than helping out at Henrik's, and Rose was determined to prove her right.

"Rose?"

She broke from her reverie, and saw Mickey standing in the door. "Yes?" she smiled.

He seemed nervous. "Do you want to, you know, go for a short walk?"

Rose looked at him curiously but nodded. "Sure,"

Soon they were walking along the grounds in an awkward silence. Rose was about to say something, anything, to break it when Mickey spoke. "I was thinking about us," he said, and Rose could tell it had taken him a lot of courage to say out loud.

She didn't say anything, knowing what was going to come next.

"I was thinking that, maybe, now we're both here at Merryweather, we could get back together…" his voice went up at the end of the sentence, making it seem like a question.

Rose wasn't quite sure what to say. She knew that she didn't love Mickey, but she also knew he loved her deeply, and would never do anything to hurt her, like Jimmy Stone had done. Mickey had been following her around like a lost puppy ever since they were little, and she felt bad for leading him on so many times. Maybe it wouldn't be half bad to end up with Mickey, she thought to herself. With her luck, she couldn't do better, and a boyfriend that loved you so loyally and faithfully was hard to find. Maybe she would grow to love him back, in time. "Well, I've actually gone man-vegan for this year," she said, seeing the hunching of Mickey's shoulders and how the light went out in his eyes. "But when it changes, you'll be the first to know," she added hurriedly.

"Thank you, Rose," he said sincerely, but Rose could tell that he would have been far happier had she said "yes" straight away.

* * *

Rose had thought that John Smith was the only person in the school that everyone gossiped about, but she had been hearing "Donna Noble" in conjunction with his a few times now, and thinking back she remembered Lara saying that this girl was the only person he talked to, and that they were practically siblings. However, she had never met this Donna until her first history lesson. Mr Becker was late, causing the class to be in a loud disarray. There was a commotion at the front of the class and Rose recognised two boys glaring at each other aggressively, surrounded by a few other onlookers.

"Leave off, Allen," one of them said angrily.

The other, whom Rose assumed was Allen, frowned. "Scared of little Johnnie now, are we?"

"No," the other replied unconvincingly.

"That's strange, because I could have sworn you worshipped that orphan bastard," Allen took a step forwards.

That was when a very furious red-haired girl intervened. "Shut your mouth, Mannings! Just because he isn't here doesn't mean he doesn't know what everyone says and does. You better watch your back this Thursday, when he comes back. John doesn't like people saying things behind his back. Doesn't like it at all," The girl gave him the finger, and stormed out, bumping into Mr Becker on the way, who was looking around in obvious confusion.

"Everyone sit down, in your seats please," Mr Becker said nervously. Rose sighed inwardly. She was already feeling sorry for this teacher who was undoubtedly the victim of many pranks – he looked terrified of the students around him.

"What was that all about?" Rose asked her neighbour, Anita, and gestured at Allen and the other boy, sitting sullenly at the front.

"Allen and Jack are cousins, but Jack constantly follows John around – it's a bit pathetic really. Allen hates it – he wants to be the one that Jack looks up to and admires. He's really jealous of John, because before John came, he was the most popular guy here." She grinned a little. "If popular means that everyone talks about you, because no one really likes John Smith except for his groupies and Donna Noble. That was the girl who just walked out."

"Thanks," Rose said, grinning back. It was really a bit annoying to have started in January instead of September, but before now her and Jackie simply hadn't had the money to send her here, even with the good scholarship Rose had earned.

* * *

The next few days passed very quickly. Before Rose knew it, it was already Wednesday, and there was a low tension in the air as everybody thought about the coming day – the day when John Smith was returning. It shamed Rose to admit this was what she was thinking about as well. She couldn't really help it though – everywhere she went it was the only discussion topic. Even Shareen couldn't stop talking about him.

"Wait until you see him!" Shareen half squealed. Rose hadn't told her about the bus incident when she was in town, although she wasn't completely sure why.

"Yes, yes," Rose said tiredly. Shareen had been nattering on about him for the past half hour already now.

"Rose! You will regret your nun-choice when you see him! He really is gorgeous, not just in looks, he has this presence…"

"Shareen!" Rose said sharply. "You have a boyfriend!"

"I know, I know," Shareen said. "But what he doesn't know can't hurt him. Besides, I don't talk to John or anything. I just like looking at him. That's not against the law or anything!" Her expression turned serious. "But Rose, you have to draw the line at looking. Don't do anything to catch his attention. It never ends well when he's focused on someone. Do you promise?"

Rose nodded, knowing that she wasn't willingly going to go near anyone who could upset her studying – she really wanted this year to be good. Something Shareen said made her wonder, though. "You said it 'never ends well' – what do you mean, Shar? Has something happened?"

Shareen bit her lip. "Apart from the usual girls getting heartbroken there was once this time-" she broke off and her face clouded. "That's funny – I don't quite remember…"

"Shareen!" Rose said, hating the tension Shareen was putting her in.

"What?" Shareen looked well and truly confused now.

"You were telling me about John Smith," Rose prompted.

Shareen seemed even more confused. "I was? What do you want to know?"

Rose half growled in frustration. "I don't know yet, you were in the middle of telling me!"

She looked concerned. "Are you OK, Rose?" Shareen asked, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yes!" she snapped. If Shareen didn't want to tell her, that was fine. She would just have to ask someone else. If there was one thing Rose hated, it was not knowing something that everyone else knew. Jackie had always said her curiosity would be the death of her – she had been forever asking questions when she was little, too stubborn to take no for an answer.

Rose and Shareen had made friends again by the time they both went to sleep, but Shareen still insisted she didn't know what Rose was talking about when she mentioned John Smith and a girl that didn't end well. Rose had thankfully half-forgotten this by morning as she was too busy worrying about John Smith. She sincerely hoped he wasn't in any of her classes – he was actually supposed to be a year above her but apparently he had missed so much school for various reasons that he had to redo her year – meaning that there was a chance she would have to endure lessons with him. He was really the last thing she needed when she really wanted to do well.

* * *

Maths that morning was safe – completely John Smith free. Well, physically, at least. From her classmates she had gleaned that Smith now had a "huge scar" on his arm, and for a moment she felt slightly sorry for him again – knowing that he had no parents, only a load of stalkers at school couldn't be nice for anyone. Then again, he did seem like the attention seeking type. He was probably relishing the fact that everyone was talking about him. This thought in her head, Rose continued with her lessons. To her great relief, all her lessons until midday were Smith-free as well, but she couldn't avoid seeing him at lunch. She was sitting with Mickey, Anita and a few other people from Mickey's year, enjoying her canteen lasagne, which really didn't taste very nice.

"Rose!" Mickey laughed, looking at her. "You're staring at that lasagne so hard I'm scared it might burst into flames! You alright?"

Rose looked up, red tinging her cheeks. It was true. She was trying not to look at John Smith, whom she could tell, from where everyone's eyes kept wandering, was standing a few tables behind her. In the very likely chance that it was the boy she had met in town, she didn't want him to recognise her. _Don't let him focus on you_, Shareen had said, and she would try her hardest to follow that rule – after all, that was how the business with Jimmy had started. She had caught his attention, and she regretted it. "Yep, I'm fine," she replied.

"Good," Mickey said, but he sounded slightly worried.

Rose couldn't help it anymore. She turned around slightly, seeing Smith exactly where she thought he would be – and wearing completely different things to when she had seen him before – a scuffed leather jacket, tight T-shirt and dark jeans, combined with bulky boots. His hair wasn't floppily hanging into his eyes anymore, either – it was spiked up with a huge amount of hair gel, revealing his brown eyes which he had outlined in kohl. He had three rings in his left ear, and one in the right. Rose stopped herself there. She was beginning to sound like one of his groupies herself. She was just looking away when he caught her eye and smirked. She looked back at Mickey quickly and cursed under her breath.

"Rose?" Mickey looked at her suspiciously, until he guessed whom she had been staring at. "Rose!" he said again, angrily this time. He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if Smith would hear him otherwise, which was ridiculous as he was almost 20 metres away. "Don't stare at John Smith. Don't even think about him – it's best that way." He said this bluntly, shifting so that he was blocking John from Rose's sight.

"I wasn't–" she protested but he cut her off.

"Of course you were – what else is there to look at in this place? But believe me, you should stay away from him, Rose," he lowered his voice now and Rose could tell he did actually have her best intentions in mind, regardless of how much of his annoyance was fuelled by the unnecessary jealousy he feels when she so much as looked at another guy in a way that might not be platonic.

"I'm not a baby, Mickey, I can tell that for myself," she retorted, equally as angry.

A bit later, though, she found that the urge to look at him had come back again. It wasn't like she wanted to look at him for the sake of looking at him, she told herself, it' was just reverse psychology. Like when you told someone not to think of pink elephants, and that's the first thing they did. People had been telling her not to get involved, and she was finding herself wanting to disobey that more and more. She sneaked another peak, disguising it more carefully this time. He was still leaning against the wall, a cigarette in hand and surrounded by a small group of people he was waving off with his free arm. The smoke was wafting over to the lunch tables, almost choking her with its intensity – what exactly was he smoking? – but no one said anything. The easy, carefree atmosphere from the previous days had vanished – she could tell everyone couldn't wait to finish their lunch and escape to the safety of the next lesson. Just as she was starting to feel guilty for looking at him for so long, he turned his back and she breathed a sigh of relief; now she couldn't be caught staring again. He was talking to the loud, red haired girl - Donna. Donna said something and he started roaring in laughter, so infectious that she couldn't help but let a small smile spread over her face as well. Then Donna pointed right at her, and he turned around impossibly quickly. She ducked down, trying to hide the redness that appeared on her cheeks _again_ in her sandwich – she didn't want to repeat attracting his attention. Deciding that from now on she would really properly try to ignore him, she couldn't help thinking that his laughter was completely different to Stone's – somehow friendly, and warm, not suiting the persona he seemed to be building up here. Some part of Rose knew that there was more to him than what you saw at first glance, than what everyone else in the school saw.

* * *

_A/N Soon things are going to start happening! (Yes, I did actually think of a little sub-plot for this story, apart from the obvious Ten/Rose one.)  
The next chapter might be from the Doctor's point of view – what do y'all think?  
Please leave me your reviews, it really gives a lot of encouragement, especially when I'm trying such a different genre to what this fandom is generally used to.  
If you like ten/rose, go check out my other fic, Coping, or a dark!Doctor one called Step by Step. (shamless self advertisement). If ya like Harry Potter or Glee, go check out gooseberrie - she's awesome. _


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N This chapter sees the return of OC Anita, because I don't want to kill off any proper characters. Shareen has quite a big part as well, but at least she's canon – Rose mentions her quite a lot so I used her since Rose needed a best friend, and Donna is already being one for the Doc and Martha kinda annoys me sometimes so…  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

* * *

_Chapter 3:_

Rose should have seen it coming. She had always had a knack for getting herself into all sorts of situations, especially when she tried to avoid them. As it was, she'd waved goodbye to Mickey at the lunch table, and hurried inside to get to her geography study class. On the way there, she almost ran into the head teacher – not really a good way to start her second week. He barely acknowledged her muttered apology, deep in conversation with Mr Matthews, Merryweather's "principal of education" – a long suffering, balding man whose face seemed to be a permanent shade of burgundy. Rose couldn't blame him, thinking of the types of things some people got up to. She was about to turn the corner when she heard Mr Matthews saying "John Smith…" and sighing with the sound of someone who had lost all hope.

Interesting, Rose thought, and casually leaned against one of the conveniently placed lockers, within hearing distance of their conversation.

"I really don't know why you've let him in again, Simon," Mr Matthews complained, huffing.

The head teacher, or "Simon" as Mr Matthews called him, sighed a little, and his shoulders slumped. "I've told you already. He has some very powerful relatives, who gave me quite specific instructions a while ago, saying that he needed to be learning and working."

Mr Matthews didn't look convinced. "He's told me his parents are dead."

"That may be so, but someone out there wants him to have his education, and believe me, they were very persuasive in their letters," the head looked so terrified Rose was afraid he'd wet himself if he thought about these relatives any further. She wondered what kind of persuasion this had been, if it got such a stern man into this state.

The rest of their conversation was cut off as the door to the office slammed. That was when Rose realised where she was meant to be right now.

"Crap!" she hissed, hoping the head teacher hadn't somehow heard her through the door – you could never be sure about these things with teachers – and sprinted off down the corridors. She hadn't been late for a single lesson yet and she wanted to take a perfect attendance record home to her mum.

"Sorry I'm late!" she said quickly, bursting into the classroom. A few boys at the front sniggered.

"No worries, dear, you're new here, aren't you?" a friendly, middle aged teacher that Rose's timetable proclaimed to be Mrs Perierea beckoned for her to sit down.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, it won't happen again." Rose turned to face the class and scanned the room for empty seats. There were none. She opened her mouth to tell Mrs Periera when she realised that there was actually an empty seat – just one- which she hadn't seen because of the bag sitting on it. Naturally this seat was next to the one and only John Smith. Rose froze where she was. The day had been going so well. She had of course calculated the probability of sharing a class with him, but a desk…

"Is something the matter, dear?" Mrs Periera asked, looking curiously at Rose.

Rose snapped out of her trance. "No, not at all." She walked to the desk and waited expectantly for Smith to move both his bag and his arm, which were currently occupying the chair, giving off a clear message – "No one is allowed to sit here".

Smith grunted and pushed his bag onto the floor, retracting his arm and placing it exactly along the middle line of the desk. Rose thought this was overdoing it a little. She could see for herself where the two different halves of the desk were, and she wasn't planning on encroaching on his space, so the arm wasn't necessary, thank you very much.

An amused smile flitted across Smith's face for a quarter of a second and he withdrew his arm, moving it into his lap very slowly and precisely. Rose watched this in shock. Had she said all that out loud? She was quite sure she hadn't. Anyway, there was no use dwelling on these types of things. She sat down, and dumped her bag on the table. Some girls around her gave her jealous looks. Ah. So that was why Smith had been trying to make sure no one sat there. She couldn't blame him – lovesick girls could either be friendly and full of blushes, or like ravaging harpies. And the majority of those sitting in an immediate circle around Smith looked like the harpy type. He obviously wasn't expecting that she was going to come along and need a seat. She smiled inwardly. She certainly wasn't going to lust after him like all those other girls. Frankly, she found it repulsive and needy. If he was expecting her to bow down before him, he was wrong. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't be polite.

"I'm Rose," she said, stretching out her hand. He looked at it for a while and then nodded his head. Rose waited for a reply but he turned back to a small gadget he was playing with under the table. Huh. She hadn't placed him as the geeky type. He was probably playing some shooting game, or whatever it was that all boys that age did. She tried not to be offended by his lack of answer, but it didn't really work. She resolved to try and focus on the lesson, instead of continuously getting distracted. Maybe she could apply for a different time slot, but she doubted they would let her as "I don't particularly like sitting next to Smith" was hardly going to qualify as a reason. Ah well. She would have to do the best with what she had.

It was already nearly halfway through the lesson when she noticed his scar. It was an angry red and ran from his wrist up to the middle of his forearm. She vaguely remembered some people from one of her previous lessons mentioning it, but she hadn't expected it to look like _this_. It wasn't the colour, or the size of it that bothered her, it was the shape. Instead of being a more or less straight line, it was made up of circles – different shapes and sizes – but definitely perfect circles. This was more the sort of thing you expected to find as a tattoo. She wondered how it had happened. It couldn't have been accidental, could it?

"Class dismissed!" Mrs Periera said, clapping her hands together. Rose looked at the clock in amazement. The time had flown by!

There was a quiet chuckle next to her. Rose looked around, but Smith was already leaving the classroom, scruffy backpack on one shoulder. She shrugged.

* * *

"Have you seen that awful scar on his arm?" Rose asked Shareen as they were studying in their room that afternoon.

A slow smile spread across Shareen's face. "So you have been looking!" she waggled her eyebrows spastically.

Rose hit her with a pillow. "Shar!" she whined.

"Fine, fine," Shareen surrendered. "Of course I've seen it. It isn't that bad though,"

"What do you mean? It looked awful! All those shapes carved into his…" Rose stopped and shuddered. "Urgh,"

Now Shareen looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

This made Rose confused as well. "The scar on his arm!"

"Are you sure we're talking about the same arm? His latest one is just a… line, I guess."

"I-" Rose stopped. "I guess it was just my imagination,"

Shareen pursed her lips, looking worried. "Probably."

There was a pause as both of them concentrated on their assignments again, the reason why they were there in the first place. Rose put a satisfying full stop at the end of her globalisation essay and put her pen down. Shareen saw this as an opportunity to carry on talking.

"You did find him good-looking though, didn't you?" she asked worriedly. "Because if I have any chance of fixing you up with a good guy I need to know what your type is. Or if boys are even your type. I wouldn't mind, you know, I know lots of good looking girls I could hook you up with as well-"

"Shareen!" Rose interrupted her. "I'm touched, but I don't need a personal matchmaker! I'm not looking for a relationship right now! And for your information, it's still boys for me, but if that changes I will tell you."

"Ok, ok," Shareen said. There was another short pause. "But did you find him hot?"

Another pillow hit her face, making her exclaim "OI" rather loudly. Rose was mortified to find a blush spreading across her face, which Shareen caught.

"You did, you did, you did!" Shareen started chanting.

"Shut up," Rose said, but it didn't come out very harshly.

* * *

The next few days passed without incident, apart from Rose trying to ignore the soulful looks Mickey occasionally sent into her direction, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. She had just arrived in her history lesson, sitting down in her usual seat, when she realised that Anita wasn't there yet. That was strange, she had seemed like a very punctual person. Rose brushed it off, but when Anita still hadn't arrived for the rest of the lesson she began to get curious. She asked one of the other girls near her, but she didn't know where Anita was either. She was probably just ill or something, Rose thought.

That lunchtime she finally saw Anita, but she wasn't sitting at one of the tables like usual. She was in the corner, talking to… John Smith? Rose was really puzzled. Anita wasn't one of his obsessed followers at all, and why was she skipping lessons?

"Shar? Do you know why Smith is talking to Anita?" Rose nudged Shareen, who had been texting Darren.

"Anita?" Shareen looked up. "Oh, I recognise her. Why? Jealous already?" she grinned and Rose rolled her eyes. "I really don't know. But I do know he can't have any friendly intentions in mind. She should get away while she still can, or she'll end up like the girl last time-" she stopped abruptly, and her eyes glazed over for a few seconds.

"The girl last time…" Rose prompted, aware that this was exactly like the last time Shareen had tried to tell her about Smith's history and a certain girl. She couldn't shake the feeling that something funny was going on here, and Shareen's reply only strengthened that.

"Girl? What girl?" Shareen asked.

Rose shook her head. "Never mind,"

Shareen gave her a funny look, and Rose gave her an easy smile to convince her she wasn't going mad. Rose peeked back at Smith and Anita. He was saying something in a low voice, looking quite threatening. Anita didn't look fazed and was shaking her head, repeating something which seemed to make Smith even angrier. A few minutes later she flicked her hair and stalked off inside, leaving Smith there, shaking his head with a hopeless expression on his face. Rose didn't quite know what to make of the whole thing.

Later, as she was walking to her next class, she saw Anita in the corridor and hurried over. "Are you ok, Anita? I noticed you weren't in maths today,"

Anita looked at Rose, and for a moment her eyes changed and looked at her warmly. She opened her mouth to say something and then her eyes hardened again and she looked directly in Rose's eyes. "I'm absolutely fine. Why would you think otherwise?"

Rose was slightly stunned but shrugged. "I don't know, I just thought-"

"Don't." Anita walked off.

"Well then," Rose said, miffed. This was very unlike Anita. It was probably Smith's influence, she thought, and growled inwardly. Hopefully Anita would snap to her sense and stay away from him. When she thought about it, the whole thing was very strange indeed, but it wouldn't do to dwell on things that were definitely none of her business.

* * *

Rose looked down at her timetable. Gym. Great. Why had she taken it? It had been optional! She heaved her kit out of her locker and shuffled towards the gym. She really wasn't looking forward to this. She was hopeless at cricket, netball and rounders, and all the sports people threw at her. Well, not exactly hopeless, just not particularly good. She was approaching the double doors when they opened on their own. Wait, what? They hadn't opened on their own, because a certain someone was opening them. Remembering what Anita had been like after talking to him, she glared at Smith. Why had fate put them in the same gym class as well? Did the world hate her? He chuckled, and Rose felt herself seething. So it had been him who had chuckled before in geography. It was extremely irritating, and although she wasn't a violent person, she felt like she wanted to hit something. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction, and very purposefully, chuckled again, and Rose walked to where the others were sitting quickly, thinking of how his pretty face would look if she punched it - she may be a girl, but Jackie had taught her how to pack quite a mean punch. Whoa. Wait a moment. Had she just called Smith's face pretty? She had, and there was no use denying it. Pretty boys could be jerks as well; it was just harder to hate them, especially if they just chuckled at you like that.

It turned out that someone was on Rose's side amidst all the annoying things that had happened today, because it turned out they were going to start off the term with track running – running was one thing Rose liked to do, a lot. To just focus on your pounding feet and the rush of blood in your head was wonderfully relaxing. As it was the first lesson, the coach just told them to keep running around the track for as long as they liked. The majority of the class dropped out after a lap or two, preferring to sit on the bleachers and gossip. Rose rolled her eyes at them, and carried on. She was doing nicely, until someone very deliberately ran right in front of her. Rose couldn't believe his cheek. She increased her pace and ran around him, overtaking him easily. She faintly heard him chuckle from behind her (that chuckle!) and soon he was there in front of her again. Rose ran past him again, heading into a full on sprint for the final two hundred metres. There was a blur and a rush of wind next to her as something flew past. Seconds later she saw him standing smugly at the finish line. Huffing and puffing, she dragged herself for the last few metres, shooting him a glare. How did he get there so fast? She had no idea he could run so well… Neither, apparently, did the coach, because he rushed up to Smith, practically trembling with excitement.

"John, John, you must join the track team!" he said, stumbling over the words because he said them so quickly.

Smith's expression turned dark and he looked at her angrily, as if it was somehow her fault that coach had picked up on his running skills. She gave him a sickly sweet smile and shrugged, leaving him to deal with the hyperactive teacher.

_Ha,_ she thought. _Revenge._

* * *

_A/N I've realised I've been a bit too ambitious saying updates every 2-3 days as school is starting again but I shall try not to make it longer than a week between updates. The next chapter will probably be uploaded sometime around the weekend.  
Please review, and leave me your thoughts and comments, it really means a lot. Thank you to everyone who has already done so, I apologise if I haven't answered every review individually, but I really have tried not to miss any. _


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited or alerted! A big hug to all of you. What did y'all think of yesterday's Doctor Who? I have to say that despite the great actors, I wasn't impressed…  
Sorry for any typos, I haven't checked this chapter yet as I just wanted to get it out there.  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

* * *

_Chapter 4:_

When Rose woke up the next day, she already felt like something was wrong. Jackie had always called her superstitious, as usually her foreboding feelings turned out to mean nothing. But that morning, as she looked around the jumbled room, there was a bitter taste in her mouth, just that bit too strong to ignore.  
"Shareen?" Rose asked, and bit her lip. She was feeling childish, but she wanted some reassurance that her friend was still there.

Shareen rolled over sleepily, groaning. "Wh't you wan'?" she mumbled out sleepily.

Rose opened her mouth, but then thought about how stupid it would sound. "…nothing,"

"Mmmmm," was the only reply from the other side of the room.

Rose forced herself out of bed, knowing she could not fall asleep again. She got dressed, and pulled on her trainers. "I'm going for a walk, be right back," she said to Shareen, in case she woke up to see an empty bed and worried, which was very unlikely, as Shareen had the tendency to sleep right up until around fifteen minutes before her first class began. A muffled sound came from the blankets, which Rose deciphered as "this early?!". She pulled open the door and quickly rushed through the corridors, feeling a sudden, intense sensation of claustrophobia – the walls seemed to be closing in her on her, tighter and tighter… Once she had finally left the building, Rose sighed in relief and lifted her face up to the fresh morning air – clean, and fresh, and so different from the polluted air at home. A flock of birds flew overhead, flying in an almost perfect arrow formation until a few broke from the flock and cartwheeled through the rest, upsetting the uniform order. Rose felt an irrational anger towards those few birds, as the sight of the flock in harmony was strangely relaxing.

She walked again, not really looking where she was going, and started thinking about what to do with Mickey, and his steady unwavering love for her. Could she love him back as unconditionally as he did her? Would it be fair to say yes to him if they both knew how hopelessly devoted he was, something that she wasn't? Rose knew that she didn't _need_ a boyfriend – she was perfectly fine on her own, but there was definitely a part of her telling her that she was incomplete, and sometimes she felt like there was a phantom hole somewhere in her chest around where her heart was. The feeling always came at unpredictable moments, and was mostly unwanted. When she regained awareness of her surroundings again she found herself in the east part of the sprawling grounds, and she was no longer alone. On the bench, just a few metres away from her, sat the one and only person she only seemed to meet at times she really just wanted to be left alone.

"What do you want?" Smith's voice was unnaturally cold and hard.

Rose wasn't sure what she'd done to make him dislike her like this, but she wasn't going to take it lying down. "As far as I know, this is a public place," she said, defending herself against that prickling gaze. A breeze picked up and a wrapper dislodged itself from the nearby bin, landing close to her feet. She bent down and picked it up, not wanting to let it lie there and spoil the beauty of the untouched grass. A small smile spread across her face as she saw the name. "Freddy Frogs," she said aloud. "My mum always used to give me these when I was little," she continued, not exactly sure why she was telling him this.

He said nothing, focusing on something in the distance and seemingly forgetting Rose was there. She was not sure what to do. Just as she thought she should turn around and admit defeat, trying to find another place to sit down, he spoke. "You're very strange, you know,"

Rose looked at him quizzically. "Huh?" she managed. This was coming from John Smith? The epitome of all strangeness?

"Most people accept that I don't want to talk to anyone much sooner. You, you just keep on following me. And yet you still insist that you don't want anything to do with me."

Rose thought about it and realised that no matter how blatantly he had put it, it was still true. "I never said that," she said, slightly miffed, as she didn't know Smith knew about her resolution to stay away from him, the resolution she never seemed able to keep.

"You thought it."

"I-" Rose began.

"Don't deny it. I could see it in your eyes." He uttered a small, mirthless laugh. "I don't blame you." He stood up and began to walk back towards the main buildings, leaving Rose behind, who was almost gaping in shock.

All of her careful rules had just been thrown out of the window and stamped upon for good measure. Smith had definitely not been nice to her in the past, but she never thought that he might be hurt by her decisions to stay away from him. It didn't make much sense. Nothing was making much sense at the moment, to be honest. It was not until after his figure had faded out of sight that she realised that phantom place in her chest had, for a few moments, felt less empty than usual.

Rose stayed standing there for a bit more, until she regained control over herself, shaking her head to try and wake herself up a bit. Her eyelids had been growing heavy and she longed for the comfort of her own bed, back at home. She glanced down at her watch and ran back to her room, trainers skimming the dewy grass. She grabbed her bag and started off to her first class – advanced biology. She didn't get very far before she was stopped.

"All classes for today are going to be put off until further notice," a teacher Rose vaguely recognised said grimly.

"Why-" Rose stopped, realising she should probably just accept the fact and go with it.

He looked at her closely. "Rose Tyler?" he asked.

Rose nodded her head in confirmation. "Yes…"

"You knew Anita, didn't you?"

"Yes," Rose said, worried. The feeling of wrong had come back, worse than that morning, making her feel sick. Her stomach tensed.

The teacher moved aside, and Rose saw police tape cornering off a section of the corridor. Some official looking people were milling around, and Rose could see a chalk outline on the floor.

"No," she choked out. This couldn't be happening. "Is she…" Rose broke off.

He nodded sadly, and bowed his head a little. "I expect the police would like to speak to you for a bit."

"Of course," Rose said, keeping her voice level. She hadn't known Anita very well at all, but she did think they had progressed to the stage of acquaintances, if not friends.

"They're all in the head teacher's office," the teacher said.

"Anita's body was found in the early morning, still warm. Did you hear anything? Your room isn't that far away from Anita's," the chubby police officer sitting opposite her asked.

Rose shook her head. She still couldn't properly take in that a student was dead. A girl her age had just had her life painfully cut short, and Rose couldn't quite comprehend this. It could have been her, it could have been _Shareen_ – it could even have been _Mickey._ She let her eyes stare thoughtlessly, stopping on the small stain that lurked on the front of the policeman's white shirt. She wondered how he got it. It looked like it was coffee. He had probably been enjoying his breakfast when he had been called in to work, and his hurry the coffee had split over the edge of his cup, falling on his shirt, and probably the table as well…

"Did you notice anything strange about her in the last few days?" the officer asked, and Rose snapped back to the present.

She thought back to Anita yesterday, and how she had been arguing with Smith. "Not really…"

"Not really? If there is anything, anything that was out of the ordinary you must tell us. It doesn't matter if you didn't think it was important." The officer looked desperate. "We really don't have any leads on this case. From what we can gather, Anita was a normal, quiet student, who just happened to be found dead in the corridor with no visible signs showing a possible cause of death."

Rose hesitated. For some strange reason, she almost felt like she was betraying Smith's trust by telling the police about the way Anita had acted yesterday, and then she caught herself. What was she thinking? She had almost been ready to withhold information from the _police _on account of some arrogant prick she didn't even really like. "It's probably nothing, but yesterday Anita didn't show up to class, which I thought was a bit peculiar, since she never bunks, and then at lunch I saw her talking, well, arguing, with this guy whom she normally hates, and it seemed a bit weird…" Rose broke off in thought. Could this have something to do with it? Anita had been acting very out of character… She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something, something big she was missing from the whole story.

"And who might this 'guy' have been?" the officer asked impatiently.

"John. John Smith," Rose said.

The officer's eyes widened in recognition and he leant back in his chair. "I see," he said, and Rose felt suddenly guilty.

"It couldn't have been him – I mean, I saw him this morning and-"

"Thank you," the policeman cut her off. "You've been a tremendous help."

"But-" Rose protested, feeling like she had just condemned Smith with those few words, which was entirely unfair. She knew he probably had a criminal record, but… _But what?_ A voice in her head said. _He probably has a criminal record. What's to say this isn't him as well? Why are you trying to defend him? _

"Bring him in!" the officer said, and turned to her. "You can go now."

Rose walked out helplessly, and saw Smith sitting outside the office. "I tried," she said. "I tried to tell him that it couldn't have been you, I…" she trailed off.

Smith stared at her, his eyes dark. "I don't need your help," he said finally, and stalked into the office, slamming the door behind him. Rose almost punched the wall in exasperation. If he was going to act like that, he didn't have a good chance of convincing anyone of his innocence. She had only tried to help him, but if he wanted to try and antagonise the police in every way he could think of, she was officially going to abandon the case.

* * *

"Rose?"

Rose didn't have to look up to know that Mickey was there, staring at her. She was lying in bed, her eyes closed, but she was definitely not sleeping.

"Are you alright? I-no, that was a stupid question, I'm sorry," he was doing that thing where he fidgeted with the bottom of his jumper; Rose could tell without looking at him.

"I'm not," she said, and it was a relief. "I'm not alright." A strangled sob broke from her throat, and the guilt washed over her again. She wasn't even sure why anymore. All she knew was that just a few doors down someone had been murdered. And while her body was being found, Rose had been talking to the possible killer.

"Hush, hush," Mickey said, taking her into his arms and letting her cry into his shoulder.

This was not new. Mickey had been the one holding her, piecing her back together every time she cried ever since she could remember. When she had finally exhausted all her tears, it was getting dark outside. Mickey had to go, and she was alone again. She stared at the ceiling. A jagged crack scarred the paint, joined by another smaller one that came from the corner of the room.

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Rose jumped. She opened the door, but no one was there, and she was about to run and wake Shareen, because she couldn't help feeling slightly scared after everything that had happened that day, when something on the floor caught her eye.

Lying there was a very familiar chocolate. She couldn't help smiling. It was a Freddy Frog. She picked it up, seeing a small piece of paper under it. In a hastily scribbled biro pen, there were two words;

_I'm sorry._

* * *

_A/N I know that's an awful place to stop, and that this chapter was shorter than usual, but I really wanted to get this up on the weekend, like I said last chapter.  
Please review and leave me your thoughts and comments, they are much appreciated and give me so much encouragement!_


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N Thank you to all reviews, favourites, and alerts. Please keep them coming!  
_Collaboration with gooseberrie.

* * *

_Chapter 5;_

The only way to explain it was that Rose had been dreaming all of yesterday. How else was it possible that no one could remember Anita or her death at all? At first she had thought Shareen was playing a trick on her, but as the day grew on, she came to realise that everybody else also thought she was crazy when she mentioned Anita. The only things that stopped her from dismissing it all were the strange looks Smith was giving her. He definitely knew something…

It had all started when Rose had woken up. She was getting ready for class when she made an offhand comment about Anita.

"When do you think they'll have the funeral?" Rose wondered, dumping the last textbook into her bag, which was protesting under the weight which was being shoved into it.

There was a silence, and then a very large "What!?" from Shareen.

"This isn't really the time to make jokes, Shar. Anita was one of my friends," Rose said, looking at Shareen with a frown on her face.

"I'm making jokes?" Shareen said sarcastically. "I'm not the one talking about – who's Anita?"

Rose blew air out through her teeth exasperatedly. "Anita who was murdered yesterday," she said, aware that this sounded quite blunt.

"Murdered – what? Who?" Shareen seemed to be hyperventilating very badly. There was silence as she calmed her breathing and then she spoke again, in a strange, over friendly tone. "Rose, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should skip classes for today and have a lie down instead…"

Rose growled in frustration. "I am feeling alright," she ground out through clenched teeth, "but I would feel a lot better if you stopped being so insensitive about a student just a little younger than you who is now dead, killed, not even 100 metres from where we are now!"

"Rose…" Shareen bit her lip. "I think maybe you should go see someone. You're my friend, but you're really worrying me right now."

"Shareen? I don't – I can't…" Rose didn't know what to say. Why was Shareen doing this? Rose hauled her bag on her shoulder and ran out of the room.

Her first class was an advanced maths study class, and the seat next to her felt empty with no Anita sitting there. She kept looking at the empty chair so mournfully that Grace, on the other side of her, spoke up.

"Rose, what's up? You're looking at that chair as if it holds all the sorrow the world contains!" Grace said, a small smile on her face.

Rose looked at her. "It's only – that's where Anita sat and I keep remembering… It's just so terrible,"

"Wait a sec. Anita? Who's Anita?" Grace gave out a small nervous laugh that sounded like a goat bleating.

Rose couldn't believe it. Had everyone decided to play some sort of trick on her? Normally she wouldn't mind, but joking around about someone who had _died_ was a different matter. How could people be so cruel? She turned around, and ignored a confused Grace for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

It was in geography that she finally snapped. Everyone in her immediate vicinity had looked at her strangely when she mentioned Anita, and Smith was just acting plain weird. He avoided every attempt at conversation or eye contact, but kept stealing looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking, a puzzled expression on his face.

Ignoring whatever Mrs Periera had just said, she stood up abruptly, her chair overbalancing behind her and clattering to the floor loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Look, I'm usually not the type of person to take a joke badly, or whatever it is that you all think you're doing, but in these circumstances it's just utterly cruel. Can you just all please stop it? I'm not finding it funny." Rose spat out the last line, looking around at the classroom, where everyone was looking at her with either confusion, shock, or a bit of both.

"What do you-" someone started.

"You know what I mean," Rose said, starting to get fed up.

Smith stood up suddenly, giving her a small glare. He pushed her out of the classroom and locked the door behind him. Rose stood there, outside the door, wondering what the hell was going on. She bent her head to look through the glass but there was a snap as Smith pulled down the blind.

A few seconds later, Smith emerged from the classroom and grabbed her arm, pulling her along with him. "Class is over," he said shortly.

"What do you think you're doing? And what was that back in there?" Rose found it hard to put her words together. For the first time in her life, she felt completely and utterly lost.

He stopped, bringing her to a halt with him. "I don't understand why it didn't work on you," he said aloud, but Rose got the impression he was talking more to himself than to her. "There is no reason…"

"Wait a minute. What didn't work? You haven't…" Rose trailed off, thinking about what she had been about to say. _You haven't brainwashed everyone to forget about Anita, have you?_ This was proof that she was actually going mad. She needed to test it first, though. "Anita." She said, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

His eyes remained emotionless. "I know. According to you a girl called Anita was murdered yesterday, or so you've been telling everyone."

"I haven't just been – argh! Never mind!" Rose wrenched her arm free of his grip and stalked back to her room. She threw herself onto the bed and considered ripping apart the pillow in her frustration. She just didn't understand anything anymore. What was happening? Was all of yesterday really a dream? _No,_ she said to herself, _it can't be, because then it wouldn't already be Thursday today._ _And I can't have been imagining Anita – other people saw her, talked to her – there has to be another explanation. _

"Rose?" Shareen asked her as she walked in. "Are you… ok now?"

Rose sighed. She knew that unless she wanted to be seen as completely insane she had to play along with this strange façade the whole uni seemed to be upholding. "Yes," she forced a smile on her face. "I don't know what came over me. I guess I just had a really, really vivid dream."

Shareen looked relieved but not entirely convinced. "That's good then," she said, but her voice was still tentative. Rose wondered what would happen if news of her outburst in geography got out.

Rose rolled over in her bed and looked at the picture of Jackie and her father that stood on the small bedside table. Looking at the picture made her feel stronger again. She wasn't here to figure out why the students here seemed to have severe memory loss from one day to the other. She was here to learn and make Jackie proud. Despite the way her natural curiosity ached to go and try to find out what exactly was going on, she was going to try and concentrate on her studies. If Anita had been real, and had been murdered, then Rose had defended her memory as best as she could. And if she wasn't real then it really didn't matter at all.

But while she was thinking this, Rose had been standing up and going to the door, to try and find Smith who seemed to be the only person who knew something, until she remembered he didn't board here, instead having an apartment somewhere in the town Merryweather. Perhaps it was just as well. Rose quickly stripped off her clothes and changed into her pyjamas.

"Already going to sleep?" Shareen asked.

"Yep… I think I need it," Rose dropped onto the bed and pulled the covers over herself. "Night, night,"

"Sleep tight," Shareen retorted, and Rose felt relieved. Obviously her closest friend was no longer under the impression that she was round the bend. Thank goodness.

* * *

A/N Sorry to interrupt, but hereby ends Rose's narration of the story, for now. The next part shall be told in the Doctor's – or rather John's point of view.

* * *

He stormed home, slamming the door behind him and ignoring both Donna and her mother, who exclaimed the words "OI" simultaneously, and Donna's grandfather, who put a hand on his shoulder as he rushed by. He kicked his bedroom door shut viciously, not caring about the shoe sized dent that was now adorning it.

Why was this happening? There was nothing special about the Tyler girl – all his observations had made it perfectly clear that she was exactly the same level of stupid ape as the rest of them. He brushed aside the painful twinge of guilt as he thought of Donna and her grandfather. His memory wiping had been flawless – god knew he had enough practise at it, he thought bitterly, recalling how long he had been stuck on this planet already. And how many more years he still had left. All because the other damn Time Lords didn't bother to lift that punishment when they called him to fight in the Time War. It might have been different if you didn't kill all of them, a malicious voice in his head whispered. He shut it up, but not quick enough to stop a single tear rolling down his cheek. Rage bubbled up inside him and he felt a red haze clouding his vision. He struck out, and the next thing he knew the mirror on his wardrobe was shattered into jagged fragments. He moved in front of it and looked at himself. His face was distorted by the broken mirror and he found that he liked it. This was how he looked like inside. All jagged edges that didn't quite line up, but had to pretend to do so, so that the rest of the world wouldn't notice too much.

He sat on the bed and pushed his hands through his hair roughly, making it stick up in different directions. At least the body he was stuck in had great hair, although he would have liked to have a new one soon. Too bad that they had stopped his regenerative capabilities. And the cruel thing was that he couldn't even die – he had tried until he realised that they didn't want him escaping his punishment the easy way.

There was a quiet rap on the door. He recognised it as Donna's grandfather. He had stayed with them for almost 15 years now. Even he himself wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but he had rescued a child Donna from being run over by a car, and from then on, he had gradually got to know her grandfather, and far less pleasantly, her mother. One day they had simply asked him to move in with them, believing his white lie about both his parents having died in a car crash. They hadn't asked questions about the way he never seemed to age, and Donna's grandfather convinced them all to move every time people got suspicious. Sadly Wilf also insisted on him going to either school, or university, depending on which one he chose. He could scrape by as being the right age for both year 13 and a younger university student, although his attitude was puzzling to all of his classmates, regardless of age. He couldn't help being a bit of a rebel – earth was probably the most boring place in the whole cosmos to be trapped on. He knew, as he thought this, it wasn't true, but earth was still not particularly exciting.

"Come in," he called.

Wilf opened the door and came by and sat beside him on the bed. "I know from what I've observed that you're probably far older than you look like, but I still think of you as my son. And I hate seeing you like this. What is the matter?"

He sighed deeply. "It's nothing important. There was just something at school that didn't go the way I wanted it to, that's all. Nothing that can't be rectified."

Wilf nodded, and they sat there in silence for a while longer. "Has it got anything to do with that girl Donna came in talking about yesterday, and can't seem to remember today?"

He froze, and then remembered he had forgotten to wipe Wilf's memories as well as just Merryweather's and the police's. Oh well, it wasn't really necessary. "Maybe,"

Wilf still seemed uncomfortable. "Donna said that she died. Now you know I'll love you no matter what but…"

"It wasn't me," he said, and Wilf breathed a sigh of relief. "Someone else got there before me," he continued.

Wilf shifted. "Was she, you know, one of them up there?" he raised a hand to point at what was actually the ceiling, but the meaning was clear.

"Not initially," he replied, and then stayed silent. He didn't feel like explaining anything to Wilf right now. They had lived for years with these unanswered questions between them, and they could survive for a while longer.

"You're bleeding," Wilf said, his voice laced with worry.

He looked at his hand, then at the broken mirror. Wilf saw this and understood. There was disappointment in his eyes, and this hurt more than anger ever would, but the hurt still wasn't very great. It was just a mirror after all.

"It doesn't matter – it will be gone in a few hours,"

Wilf frowned. "Just because you heal faster than normal people doesn't mean you have to go around treating your body as if it's nothing. Don't think I haven't seen all those scars and bruises you have. You should take more care of yourself. You aren't worthless, you know,"

He didn't contradict that last statement, purely because he knew Wilf would kick up a huge fuss. "It's fine," he said.

Still Wilf insisted on bandaging up his hand, finishing off his handmade wrappings with a shrek plaster. Donna sniggered and he threw her a glare. "I'm not going to classes with that on," he said quickly.

"I think you should, don't you gramps? Maybe the physical stuff will be gone in a few hours, but your hand might still be hurting. We don't want you to strain it, do we?" Donna smiled, her eyes twinkling.

Wilf looked worried. "There was quite a lot of blood, you know. Maybe Donna is right,"

He sighed, not wanting to argue with them. "Fine."

* * *

_A/N Please leave all your thoughts and comments by pressing that little review button, it really does help me a lot, and I really appreciate it. Next update will probably be next weekend, although I will try to make it sooner. _


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6;_

* * *

The moment he got to Merryweather he knew he was going to have do something about the Tyler girl. He still wasn't quite sure how she had managed to suppress the modified memory perception field he had set up, but she wasn't going to do it a second time. He waited impatiently until lunch, not paying attention in any classes and just generally behaving in a very quiet way, which was confusing Donna.

"Look, John, can you just tell me what's up? Because you're acting even more strangely than yesterday evening," Donna nudged him.

He let his arms tense and relax again, watching the wood of his desk studiously. He had hated extending the field to Donna as well but it was safest this way. And if she knew half the things he got up to she would definitely not want to be friends with him anymore.

"It's nothing," he said. Then he lowered his voice. "I've told you my name isn't John," he whispered quietly.

"I know that, bright spark, but while we're in a place where you've led everyone to believe you're called that I can't exactly say 'Doctor', can I?" She frowned at him.

He said nothing, and instead pulled down his sleeve. He didn't tell Donna that "Doctor" wasn't his real name either, because this was one of the things she accepted steadfastly, without questions. On his skin livid marks stood out – his full name, in Gallifreyan. He hadn't been quite himself when he had done it, but he was finding he liked having a reminder of who he really was. It was so easy to lose yourself amongst humans and their petty worries. He was nothing like his inmates in the prison they called earth, and once he got out of here he would show them all. His fingers traced the letters slowly, and he leant back in his chair. He could sense Donna rolling her eyes next to him, and he resisted telling her that they might fall out if she carried on. He wasn't in the mood for jokes anymore, because images of long red grass and silver leafed trees were filling his head and his hearts _ached_ and _ached_-

"John?"

His head snapped up. Oh. The lesson was over. "I'm leaving," he said quickly.

"I'd like you to stay behind for a bit, please," the teacher said.

He stopped at the door and turned around, glaring. "What?"

"I've noticed you haven't been paying attention at all, and I was wondering if everything was ok?"

His expression turned darker, his eyes stormy. His life was his own business. He didn't need people questioning him about it. "I'm fine," he said coldly, and stalked out.

Now he needed to find the girl. It wasn't hard – she and those other two she hung out with were sitting at the same table as usual. A small voice in his head asked him how he knew where she usually sat, but it hadn't been listened to in over two centuries and that wasn't going to change now. He walked over, and cleared his throat.

"Tyler? I need to speak to you for a second."

The dark skinned boy next to her glared at him. "Go away, John. Just because you think you're so cool doesn't mean everybody has to do as you say. I'm not scared of you," he boasted.

He had to suppress a laugh. He could take a 20 year old human any day. But now wasn't the time, and as frustrating as it was, Wilf didn't approve of him beating up anyone who annoyed him. "I don't think I ever said anything to you." He turned to the girl. "Tyler?"

She looked at him curiously, and pursed her lips. "What is it?"

He gestured to everyone around. "Not here." If the worst got to the worst, he could wipe her memory here, but then he would have to erase everyone's who saw it as well, and things could get messy. He needed to get the target somewhere more private. And he had already planned out everything.

She now looked slightly unsure, but stood up. Her friend on her right pulled her down again, and said something quietly. "Don't worry, I can defend myself," she whispered, thinking that he couldn't hear. Again he had to fight a smile. Time Lords were far more advanced than this species, although they definitely had some bonuses, he thought, thinking of Donna and Wilf.

"Come on," he said, and led her through the tables and around the corner of the assembly hall.

She leant against the bricks and focused him with a stare. "This has got something to do with Anita, hasn't it?" she said defiantly, her chin jutting out.

He rolled his eyes. Humans made attachments so quickly. They should learn that everyone always went away in the blink of an eye – what was the point in bothering to know people anyway? "Sort of," he allowed, and bent closer, moving his face towards her. Her breath hitched and he knew she thought he was going to kiss her. This was the other typical thing about her species. They only thought about one thing, and one thing only. He put his finger tips on the sides of her head and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to begin, she wrenched herself out of his grip and ran backwards blindly. Had she sensed that he was about to do something to her?

He clicked his fingers, and the small force field he had set up that morning activated. She ran into it, winded, and looking at the air mistrustfully as she put her hands up and tested the barrier. He chuckled – he couldn't help it.

"What is that?" she demanded furiously. "What are you doing?"

He didn't reply, but quickly put his hands up again and smoothly finished extracting the memories from her mind. She was perceptive, he notice – the only one who had ever bothered to look past his leather jacket persona. That was probably why the mind perception hadn't worked on her. It hadn't been a very strong perception field anyway – he hadn't thought he'd need one.

The girl's eyes cleared and she looked around, confused for a second. He felt like he needed to step in. Thankfully he was a master at thinking of excuses. "Do you understand the basics of radiometric technology now? Or do you want me to go over it one more time?" he improvised, picking the subject they were currently revising in their optional geography class.

"No, no, it's fine," she said, and he could tell she still wasn't quite convinced, but he let it pass.

"Good," he replied, and settled back against the wall, lighting a cigarette from his pocket. She was still standing there, looking at him, so he blew the smoke, very slowly and carefully, into her face.

She took the hint, and hurried back to those two friends of hers. He smirked to himself. Now that was all sorted out. Well, this side of it was anyway – he could investigate further and find out where the spaceship of the rogue Sian which had stolen Anita's mind was, but he honestly couldn't be bothered. Sure as not, it had a perception filter on it anyway, so it wasn't really disturbing anyone here.

* * *

_A/N This is possibly the shortest chapter in all of existence but I really have no time whatsoever – that's the cause of the horribly long pause – I've somehow unexpectedly managed to get into two musicals/showcases and I've been busy trying to juggle all the late rehearsals plus all the coursework I need to get done – at the end of next week one of them finishes though, so I will have more time and there will (hopefully) be updates galore.  
Please review, you know, if you aren't holding a grudge against me now – I'm really very sorry but there's nothing I can do. I sacrificed one of my geography assignments to write this half-chapter, you know._


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